


Pathogen

by EAI



Series: Collateral Damage [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Hallucinations, Hurt Jesus (Walking Dead), Jesus (Walking Dead) Lives, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Moral Ambiguity, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Paul Rovia Appreciation Week 2019, Paul Rovia's Past, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Jaaron, Pre-Jesus, Protective Aaron (Walking Dead), Suicidal Thoughts, Survival, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, memory repression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAI/pseuds/EAI
Summary: pathogen: /ˈpaθədʒ(ə)n/i. a bacterium, virus, or other microorganism that can cause disease.ii. 'Pathos' is the Greek word for disease and -genes means "born of."/or/Before the world fell, Paul was a Monroe./or/For a belated Paul Rovia Appreciation Week: a compilation of Backstory; Relationships, What Could Have Happened and Fix-It, all rolled up into one.





	1. List of Characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> If you're anything like me - sloppy and forgetful, I mean - you may want to keep coming back to this list. I've created a large cast of original ( major and minor ) characters for PATHOGEN, and so I'm sharing my personal character reference with you guys. This section contains a huge amount of possible spoilers, so, you've been warned. 
> 
> I've used most of my favorite actors, because they are the Earth's most adorable beans and they need to be protected ASAP!
> 
> Three of the GIFs used here belong to me, others belong to their respective owners.

**P A T H O G E N **

_(Tom Payne)_

**United Nations Investigator under the Office of Internal Oversight Services (OIOS), Paul "Pre-Jesus" Monroe**

_(Dylan O'Brien) _

**Ghost Unit (GU) Officer and Former US Marine, Fischer "Judah" Rovia**

_(Bai Yu)_

**Ghost Unit (GU) Officer and Former US Marine Scout Sniper, Yang "Messiah" Xiuxian**

** **

_(Jack Huston) _

**Ghost Unit (GU) Medic and Former British Special Boat Service (SBS) Soldier, Malik "Lord" Shields**

_(Toby Kebbell) _

**Commander of the United Nations' Classified Military Contracts (CMC): Ghost Unit (GU) and Former Navy SEAL Captain, Quentin "Red" Gray-Carson**

_(Forest Whitaker)_

**Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations, Naud Voges **

_(Stacy Keach) _

**Under Secretary-General of the United Nations' Office of Internal Oversight Services (OIOS), Joseph Rowohlt**

** **

_(Mahershala Ali) _

**President of the United Nations' Security Council, Gaëtan Saint-Yves**

** **

_(Michael Mcelhatton)_

**Head of the United Nations' Classified Military Contracts (CMC), Mechiel Verstege**

_(Pierce Brosnan)_

**Nathaniel Monroe**

_(Rachel Weisz)_

**United Nations Investigator under the Office of Internal Oversight Services (OIOS), Lucrecia-Annabelle "Lucille" Matthews**

_(Bill Skarsgård)_

**Commander of the United Nations' Classified Military Contracts (CMC): Trench Unit (TU) and Former **Norwegian Forsvarets Spesialstyrker (FSK) Soldier****, Levi "Formue" Steffensen****

** ** ** **

_(Robert James-Collier) _

**Commander of the United Nations' Classified Military Contracts (CMC): Morphite Unit (MU) and Former British Special Boat Service (SBS) Soldier, Archer "Blue" Holmes**

_(Alexander Skarsgård)_

**Defected Commander of the United Nations' Classified Military Contracts (CMC): Kobalt Unit (KU) and Former Russian Spetsnaz, Gavril "жатка" Vikentiy**

_(Luke Bracey)_

**Defected Kobalt Unit (KU) Officer and Former British Special Boat Service (SBS) Soldier, Cai "Apache" Elias**

_(Armie Hammer)_

**Defected United Nations Peacekeeper, Kostin Artemov**

_(Idris Elba)_

**US Navy SEAL Captain stationed at US Army Garrison Bavaria (USAG Bavaria) in Grafenwoehr, Harrison "Makai" Steele**

_(Stellan Skarsgård)_

**Molecular Virologist and Biochemist at World Health Organization Research Facility in Wales, Professor Anton Bouska**

_(Jared Harris)_

**Molecular Virologist and Forensic Pathologist at World Health Organization Center in Barcelona, Professor Alexander Kelley**

_(Bill Nighy)_

**Biochemist at World Health Organization Research Facility in Wales, Dr. Peter** **Seller**

_(Theo James)_

**Former Croatian Military Intelligence Battalion (MIB) Agent, Juraj "Will" Erceg**

** **

_(Nick Robinson)_

**Intelligence Officer stationed at US Army Garrison Bavaria (USAG Bavaria) in Grafenwoehr, Marlon Farley**

_(India Eisley)_

**Test Subject-09, Mindy Sutton**

_(Claire Bronson)_ **  
**

**Head Researcher at the Center for Disease Control Atlanta, Dr. Candace Jenner**

**N E G O H T A P **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 22nd August, 2019 - added new minor but important, plot-wise characters. 
> 
> I really love the Skarsgårds, don't sue me.


	2. T E N  D A Y S  I N T O  F A L L

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, you'll take a glimpse into my rendition of Paul Rovia's backstory and my not-so-realistic theory about how the universe's walking dead outbreak comes about - with additional, irrationally worrisome fictional politics and confusing/inaccurate medical mumbo-jumbo on the side.
> 
> Paul’s character, in both TV and comic book mediums, is beautifully complex if you think about it. He’s sharp, intelligent and skillful; he knows how to negotiate, his fighting skills exceed that of a martial arts instructor, he’s a goddamn escape artist, and he reads people REALLY well. But the way he handles himself is questionable though, like he’s a man full of secrets that you don’t want to know. I distinctly remember back in S9's Stradivarius, after Paul's talk with Tara on that staircase - he has this glower look on his face that tells me he's suppressing a lot of things. Things that are finally cracking through this invincible barrier he's built, up to his final, brave moments.
> 
> And that’s how this story comes about, and I am way, way, way too late for my Paul Rovia Appreciation Week entry. But at least I have this posted, right?
> 
> HERE BE SOME EXPLANATIONS YOU MAY WANT TO TAKE NOTE OF:
> 
> • Since this is a backstory, I've included Paul's non-canon meetings with a number of TWD characters pre-apocalypse.  
• I set Pre-Jesus/Paul Rovia at a different light, so he's a little different from the person we grow to love and adore on TV. Like, he's mostly adopted the Jesus-like persona or positive traits from - let's say - a small group of people he used to know.  
• Composing this story is exhausting ( especially the politic and medical parts ), but it's worth it. If Pre-Jesus/Paul Rovia seems like a wimp and a damsel in distress every single time, is because I'm going on a realistic stance here ( you'll know soon ). He is not a superhuman, no one is, Hollywood has lied to us. But he'll eventually reach the point of becoming everyone's beloved bad-ass ninja-Jesus.  
• Kal and Eduardo are two underrated characters.  
• [PLAY] will be added and available for you guys ( and me ) to click on and listen while reading.  
• Multiple periods [ . ] set vertically, signify the break between the past and the future.  
• Sentences or paragraphs in Italics are scenes from the past.  
• Heads on pikes? What are you talking about?  
• I've taken S10's Aaron as my inspiration for this story. Honestly, his smolder is to die for!
> 
> And lastly, I will set PATHOGEN with 10 chapters first, and I may add a few more if the story calls for it.
> 
> English is not my first language, but do enjoy.
> 
> Much love~

**T E N D A Y S I N T O F A L L **

It was about a week ago, in the midst of a freak rainstorm after a gruesome battle fought and won, when Daryl of all people suggested that they should celebrate. For their hard-earned freedom against the cutthroat Whisperers, the reunification of all Militia-allied communities, and the addition of one new supporting band of misfits. Daryl mentioned he was tired of being aimless, alone and without a home. He admitted he missed Rick, as did everyone, but they should never let their leader’s death be the reason why they couldn’t be a family anymore. Michonne, with a curve of a rare smile plastered on her face, wholeheartedly agreed. Maggie on the other hand, who came back just in the nick of time to save Paul who was inches away from death, was ready to make amends. Everyone deserved a moment of security and peace, enjoy the deliverance autumn brought in, and it was under a mutual decision that Hilltop should be the place where all would gather for their huge feast.

And today, almost everyone was involved with the preparations and the community bustled with activity once again, looking very much alive as it supposed to be. Paul couldn’t help but feel incredibly pleased and fulfilled at the warm sight as he _limped_ out of the Barrington House, closing the door behind him as he casually took note of everyone present.

Aaron and Magna were carting in today’s fresh harvest, laughing at Jerry’s horrible jokes.

Daryl was gutting and preparing his catches for roasting with Henry and Lydia, the latter whom he unconditionally adopted.

Maggie and Michonne sat at the dinner table, catching up and otherwise occupied with cutting baskets full of carrots and zucchinis.

Tara, in deep conversation with Yumiko and Eugene by the gate.

Enid, tending her thriving herbal garden with an unusually flustered-looking Alden.

Carol, at the kitchen area with Connie and Kelly, making what smelled like baked desserts.

Luke, singing, thrumming his ukulele and dancing his day away with Tammy Rose, her adopted baby boy and other Hilltop children.

Ezekiel, all jovial at the Hilltoppers presenting some fresh fruits for him to try.

Siddiq, making funny faces at his and Rosita’s baby girl.

Ozzy and his Highway Men, helping to fix the destroyed section of the wall.

And Negan, a shocking addition but nonetheless welcomed, happily joining Judith, Gracie and RJ’s tea party with a soft smile on his face.

Paul should be there with them, helping out and having fun, embrace their newly returned freedom. But he knew he didn’t deserve any of those happiness. His past was tainted, painted in black and red, hot blood, harbored deep inside his heart. The sins he committed could never be atoned unlike the other survivors here with him.

Each of them played a different story – all of them tragic – but his was something unexpected. And today was the _day_, he was three years too late and he needed to go.

So he turned his back on everything, closed his eyes at the children’s playful laughter, committing the sound to memory as he slipped away unnoticed, to the back of the House where the hidden exit was. Paul thought, in an hour or two or until late afternoon if he was lucky, Herschel and his nanny would come out looking for him and Maggie would immediately realize him missing.

Ever since that night at the dreaded cemetery, she was exceptionally protective of him – more than she used to. She told him, back when they were still at war with the Saviors and again before she left him behind to go live with Georgie, that he somewhat reminded her of her late little sister. And that warranted her the need to be his shield, to shelter him during the long couple of days he was fighting for his life and when Beta came rampaging through Hilltop’s gates. She controlled every aspect of his life eventually, to keep him close by. Just so what happened to Beth would never happen to him.

Aaron did the same too, and Tara. It was a nice thought, to be cared for and loved, but it was all too much. Up to the point Paul felt caged in, stifling, like a delicate and fragile creature, much worse than before Maggie returned home.

Better to be one step ahead now, and to take advantage of this one in a million chance when everyone was distracted. For just a short while, he wanted to be on his own and far away from the rest, and he would come back as soon as he could.

**If** he could.

If his time had run out and he did die somewhere and was miles away from those who love and loved him, he wished they would never get to know what had happened to him. They would search for him, no question, but they would never find him. He would rot, long before he was found.

Perhaps he was being selfish, and he knew he would ruin the feast, though he believed it was for a good reason. For months he was locked within these walls, battled the trauma that weighed down on him alone as he was worn by the struggle with the Whisperers. He felt outright fear when Beta stormed in and revealed – with a wide, wicked grin – that he knew Paul’s well-kept secret.

_Beta had him by the throat, fingers digging into his skin as he growled. “You have something I desperately need.”_

_It didn’t take Paul long enough to spot the jagged bite mark peeking out in between Beta’s rotting mask and clothes. _

By the time Paul managed to crawl his way out as carefully as he could, because his legs weren’t as steady as they used to be, he was met with Kal and Eduardo – ribbing one another as always – waiting for him with a pack, his old gears and Lullaby, his beloved black-white horse.

He wasn’t sure how they got her, complete with her riding equipment and carry-ons, to pass by Tara and Yumiko – but he was glad to have her as a company.

“You really sure about this, bro?” Eduardo asked, handing him his gloves and trench coat, the very same article he hadn’t seen for quite a while. It was worn and had a few holes around the collars, and the leathery material was slightly stretched after so long, but it was still a preferable temporary armor.

“I’m only asking because, c’mon, have you seen those rock muscles on boss lady’s arms? She left for three years and now she’s fucking built like a brick shithouse! And she’s going to murder the fuck out of us – no, no, no. _All_ of them are going to murder us, they’re going to skewer and roast us over that pit Daryl’s building.”

Paul slipped on his gloves, amused at Eduardo’s latest theatric. The Spaniard often reminded him of someone he knew, someone he fondly called _brother_ years ago. “What about our bones?”

“Dog’s chew toy,” he replied instantly. “Or environmental-friendly scarecrows.”

Kal whistled, feigned impressed. “You should add in ‘Post-Apocalypse Environmentalist’ to your resume, dude. You’re getting real imaginative, and morbid. I’m so proud of you!”

“Gee, thanks,” the man cheeked. “Now no one’s going to believe me when I say I used to be beautiful.”

“Scarecrows are beautiful too, don’t discriminate.”

“Scarecrows are called scarecrows for obvious reasons. They _scare_.”

Paul chuckled but was cut short when a sharp sting shot down his left arm the moment he tried to slide his limb into the sleeve of his coat. All fun and jokes vanished just as quickly as Kal jumped over to help him to gently maneuver his offending arm. It was still a bit stiff, at times painful to move and rotate his shoulder. And it was humiliating, knowing that he needed help in something so simple. Paul was perfectly aware that if it hadn’t been for Maggie and Aaron and Siddiq, he wouldn’t have survived his wounds that night. But he was so used to being one of the capable few that showing this weakness did nothing but hurt him.

The strong façade he built almost a decade ago took a downward turn ever since his wounds temporarily rendered him immobile, disabled him for months. He turned useless, he became a physical and emotional burden to Maggie and the others and there was nothing he could do.

He breathed out when the pain finally subsided. “I’ll take all the responsibility, Eddie. I just need to go.”

Kal and Eduardo might not know the exact reason why he would dare to do this, and especially now when everyone was supposed to be celebrating. It was just terrible timing, and his penance was overdue. Maggie should know, she should remember because Paul confided this particular story only to her – days after she gave birth to Herschel when she broke down missing Glenn. And she let him go during all the few years she led Hilltop. Maybe, she didn’t realize _it_ was today and Paul would like to keep it that way.

He didn’t want anyone accompanying him.

He didn’t want anyone else feeling sympathetic of his plight.

He wanted them to remember the good in him if he couldn’t return home.

Kal supported him up to sit on his saddle, and strapped his sword onto the buckle of Paul’s belt. He warned, “If you’re not back before sunset, we’re going to send a search party for you whether you like it or not. I hear Ozzy’s really good at finding people.”

“Plus Daryl, Dog. And Maggie,” Eduardo now shuddered at the thought of her, funny how the Spaniard used to have a fleeting, innocent crush on their leader. He held the pack up for Paul to bring along, and watched him taking a curious peek at the contents. Paul froze, charmed but felt a little rueful, that his two friends even bothered to pack him food and some basic necessities.

“Took us a while to get those, but you’re welcome,” he piped in, looking away when Paul tried to meet his eyes. “Oh, let’s not forget about Tara and Enid. They’re vicious.”

“And a certain overprotective stud with curls and a robot hand.”

Aaron.

_Aaron_.

Aaron told him something the first week Paul was burdened on a wheelchair. Aaron confessed that he loved him, didn’t he?

_“I know we had a deal. No strings attached, just friends,” Aaron said, his tone mellowed as he got down on his knees, hands – flesh and metal – warm on Paul’s thighs. “I admit it’s all my fault because there aren’t supposed to be any emotions between us. After a few years, I realized that you turned into something more to me. And when you got hurt and you were barely hanging on to your life? I was completely non-functional at the thought of losing you. _

_I love you, Paul. _

_I’m head over heels in love with you.”_

People thought they looked great and cute together, but little did they know, Paul hadn’t given Aaron his answer yet. He didn’t know what to say.

So he simply nodded at his two friends, acknowledging that short list of people who he would surely miss, and laughed, just a little. “I’ll try to be quick, and not get you guys into any more trouble. Also, thank you. For everything.”

Every single, little thing they did for him.

Then Kal and Eduardo shared an uneasy glance. They were among the few Hilltoppers who unequivocally welcomed Paul when he first arrived. He befriended them, genuinely enjoyed their moments together, and their camaraderie was just as easy as the ones he had before the world broke loose. But that didn’t mean his past friendships were replaceable that easily.

Eduardo looked up at him, restless and worried. “This… wouldn’t be the last time we’ll be seeing you, right?”

If there was a simple way that he could tell them without being hated, he would.

“We,” Kal stopped himself, running a hand through his messy hair and let out a heavy sigh. “Eddie and I notice a lot of things, you know? Small changes but it’s not that hard to spot them since we’ve been friends for so long. You just shut down on us, Jesus. On everyone. The guys inside may not notice, but we do. You look like you’re giving up, and it’s just not like you.”

“I’m not giving up,” Paul argued, vulnerable.

“But we’re not convinced.”

“Kal,” he paused, blinking away the tears suddenly welling in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, okay? There are a lot of things in my head and I’m desperate to tell you but I can’t—“

[[PLAY]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlLwp05Da4o)

“—hey, hey, J,” Eduardo hushed, grabbing Paul’s bicep to anchor him down. “Calm down, take deep breaths.”

He tried, “I-I’m sorry.”

“Listen, what Kal’s trying to say is that we’re here for you, always. Even though we’re not as good as you, you know you can always count on us,” Eduardo let go of his arm and bumped his elbow at Paul’s leg, pulling his signature lopsided grin that faltered after a second or two. “Pretty sure everyone has their own secrets they don’t like to talk about. You know Kal’s and half of mine, but I intend to keep the other close to my heart. For a reason. Probably like yours too, so don’t worry about it. Also, Maggie has been strong-arming you since she came back. Everyone and their mothers can see you’re practically drowning in here.”

Then he choked up. “So if, only if you plan on never coming back or you get into trouble with some crazy shit, don’t you ever think we’re not going to miss you, okay? And don’t give me that face, bro, you’re making me cry.”

Eduardo had always been so naively trusting of Paul since day one, the man didn’t deserve to be lied to and blinded like this. It felt like a betrayal somewhat, and it was itching at the back of Paul’s head, he really wanted to tell them the truth but he was terrified.

Kal cleared his throat, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeves. “You have nine hours, give or take. We’ll try to buy you some more time. But let me remind you again, if you’re not back before sunset, before the feast even, then—“

“—Maggie.”

“Yeah, but only if she hasn’t noticed you missing. Not sure we can help you if she realizes too early,” Kal said before he reached over to pat Paul’s arm, apologizing before sending him a small smile. “I hope you’re not saying goodbye, Jesus. We can’t stop you but you’ll leave a lot of people behind, and we’ll wonder where in the world you are.”

And whereas Kal, Paul was fully aware that the man suspected him of hiding something potentially _damaging_, but decided not to pry.

“I’ll try,” Paul repeated quietly, drying his tears just as he earned a lighthearted punch on his calf from Eduardo before Kal told him to go. So he carefully guided Lullaby away, avoiding the Hilltoppers on patrol. And when he was far enough from the community’s territory, Lullaby quickened her pace to a full gallop.

It took him three hours or so to reach this small retreat, good miles away from the communities. It was a nice uphill with perfect, panoramic view of the sky and an abandoned town below, completed with a depressing sight of a boulder for a _tombstone_.

Paul made a move to climb down his horse when she stooped low to curl her legs, as if she was helping him to ease his pain somewhat. He gingerly landed on his feet, brushing his gloved hands on Lullaby’s neck as a _thank-you_ before he limped his way for the boulder. To be honest, it didn’t look like a burial place. No kaleidoscopic flowers to fashion it, no words or names carved on the stone. It was just a medium-sized boulder in the middle of nowhere, but of course, it meant everything to him.

He remembered, always. Ten days into fall, as promised.

This was a grave, empty of corpses – for everything that he used to be, for the family he missed and for the first _love_ he forever lost. 

Love.

He did love Aaron, didn’t he? Loved his smiles and the sound of his voice, but saying it out loud was too big of a step. He wasn’t ready yet. It was a challenge that required complete honesty, and Paul didn’t have that. Sex with Aaron was easy, supposedly, and feelings were as difficult as everything else. He wondered if he was the best choice for the man’s happily ever after. Aaron didn’t deserve any more tragedies, he didn’t deserve to carry even a pinch of Paul’s burdens. He didn’t deserve to be kept away from Paul’s secret. He was afraid Aaron would hate him if he was to tell him this particular story.

Because before the world fell, Paul was a Monroe – who investigated the subtle rise of strange cases of walking dead and was well-informed of the world being ambushed by an unseen plague long before everyone did. Eduardo was right, Paul had a secret. A secret in which, if everyone knew, they would ask him this:

_Where were you?_

.

.

.

.

.

—he heard nothing but the torturous ringing in his ears, quivering at the little smarts that petrified his bones and surged all over his naked body. It was a great struggle not to choke on the tubing that was shoved down his throat as he caught the quick blurs of armored bodies pillaging into the surgery room. Then came the dull echoes of shots fired and bright lights that followed; men and women in white dropped lifeless to the floor; voices roared seconds before a masked soldier came into view.

“Hey! Can you hear me? I’m here now, it’s okay.”

Who was it? The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t think through the ache rattling his head.

Then there was a sudden, blinding blast of yellow flame; cracking the ceiling and the walls, faded noises of steel and glass showered down, tailed by hoarse outcries of frustrated soldiers. Shielded by his masked protector, he attempted to pull the tubing out with trembling hands but was stopped.

“No, no, no. Hold still, Paul.”

“Sir! They’re shutting us in! We need to go now!”

The masked soldier turned away, “Where’s Romeo-One?”

“He’s on the other side of the compound!”

“—damn, we can’t get Subject-P out without stabilizing him first! Keep your heads up, don’t let them get in!”

Stabilizing?

“Charlie Mike, this is Kilowatt-Seven. Subject-P is located but he’s got a major head trauma. We’re under heavy enemy fire and we’re running dry on fumes! We need immediate assist, over!”

_“Understood, Kilowatt-Seven. Juliett-Ten is deployed, ETA in fifteen minutes.”_

“We don’t have fifteen minutes!”

_“Blackbird-One to Kilowatt-Seven, on our way to provide cover for subject extraction.”_

_“Blackbird-One, you are jeopardizing—“_

_“—turning off communications.”_

_“This is Romeo-One, Blackbird-One on visual. Three minutes en route. Hang in there.”_

After a short moment, he was carefully turned to lie on his side, the soldier’s gloved hand – a warm and comforting weight – rested on the back of his neck, kneading gently as he coughed and gagged when the tubing was tugged out of his stomach. It was an arduous process that left him tasting his own bile and the iron in his blood. He endured the pain that lingered, whimpering when he was sure something was definitely torn up inside of him.

He couldn’t recall what really happened to him, what _they_ had done to him. All he could think of as he fought to draw in breath, he had been there for a long while.

The same frantic hands returned, quickly inspected the rest of him.

“Shit, _shit_! You’re burning up. Hold on, Paul! _Hold on_!”


	3. B O O G E Y M A N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, Paul Monroe wakes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will center this story around the idea of degrading morality through Paul's perspective, his familial relationships and friendships, and the complexities of truth, lies and secrets. And also, this chapter - albeit short - is somewhat symbolic. You'll understand soon. 
> 
> P.S. - I've added a few new minor, but important characters to our list. Have a look!
> 
> Enjoy!

_“—the boogeyman’s gone, Daddy. I chased it out for you.”_

_“Thank you. You are incredible, do you know that? I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”_

_“I can stay awake, and you’ll go to sleep! So the boogeyman don’t come back and scare you anymore.”_

_“Oh, Sunny…”_

_“Don’t cry, Daddy.”_

_“...I’m sorry, Sunny. I’m so sorry.”_

Fifteen days before reality became an eternal purgatory, with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, his father told him a lie. He said, everyone had their own ghosts – _boogeymen_, he named them – the living’s carbon copies that lingered in world unknown and went unseen. These boogeymen were neither angels nor demons, they were not the unfulfilled spirits of the deceased, neither violent nor kind. They were merely _containers_ that carried different personalities, ambitions, emotions and memories. And only near death would these boogeymen appear, and wait.

_Wait for what?_ His father couldn’t answer him, he died long before Paul was brave enough to ask.

He didn’t believe the lie as years passed by and he grew old enough to trudge on dangerous corners of the world. He never bothered to understand it, why should he? It was just a story, something to scare a naive eight-year-old boy.

Now – Paul found himself alone in the woods, dressed in a blue hospital gown, feeling the cold and damp earth soft underneath his bare feet. And there were boogeymen around him, standing stock-still amidst the thick, ominous fog. He knew he was dreaming, the setting was too monotonous, and soundless, and stagnant. He started to think that maybe, his father’s lie could be true and he only knew half of the truth. Instead of one boogeyman, he couldn’t count how many there were with him, trailing behind him – all wrapped tightly, from head to toe in dirty plastic sheets.

All were bloodied. Some headless, others burnt. Limbless, mutilated.

Through the endless maze of trees and boogeymen in the fog, he sought his way out, following the only booming sound that resonated past this macabre dream.

The veil parted for him suddenly, and he regained his first semblance of consciousness.

Everything was muddled and bright and loud and painful. There was a different noise that shrilled, aggravating the throbbing ache he felt in his head. People were talking around him, yelling, but he couldn’t make out the words. Dark silhouettes appeared and loomed above him, putting their hands on him. But past the chaos, he spotted a lone boogeyman that had followed him into this waking world – drenched in red and leaking, he could smell the pungent iron wafting in the air. The plastic was torn and burnt at the edges as it stood crooked, the blood blurred the boogeyman’s face but he was aware of what and who it looked like underneath. It was an incredibly twisted and reprehensible concept, knowing that was how he would appear dead.

Paul blinked slowly, he was drifting again, persuaded by sleep, just as the boogeyman swayed and took a step closer before he was lulled back into the quiet darkness.

It was true, he had his own ghost. A copy of himself.

It was never a lie to begin with, his father told him a warning. Simply to prepare himself for this presumably, personal battle.

Because his copy, this container of a bodiless entity, was waiting for something _alive_.

[[PLAY]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZHJiiTvrnU)

The next thing he knew, colors burst into the crevices of sleep’s monotonous setting. He opened his eyes to a figment of his most cherished memory, overlooking a picturesque city he recognized dearly. It was late in the afternoon, where the breeze was as gentle and cool, carrying the slow, heavenly glide of a street entertainer’s symphonious performance from somewhere down below. Like how he remembered the day to be. And high above, the birds soared through the clashes of blue and orange.

But sadly, this was the part where he would think this beauty felt both surreal and lonely. 

“You’re all grown up.”

Paul froze, he recognized that voice. But this was just a memory, wasn’t it? He didn't remember this part. 

“It's been 19 years, hasn't it—“

**1034 Days, Pre-Global Outbreak**

_“—солнышко."_

He woke up, albeit disoriented, to a bouquet of yellow roses and dimmed fluorescent lights. He felt like he had been asleep for far too long, was it spring already? It took him a few good moments to assess where he was – the unbroken melody of machines beeping softly; hisses from the oxygen cylinders and the itch from the nasal cannula, the gentle marmalade hues of sunset reflecting against the stark white walls, the overpowering smell of antiseptic, and IV and morphine drips.

Hospital.

He was in a hospital.

Paul remained motionless against the stiff comfort of his bed, queasy and numb and dehydrated. He should be in a private settlement owned by the US military somewhere in Europe, somewhere secluded and safe probably the only place that could offer him his much needed refuge and treatment.

Treatment.

_—they took away his sight for however long they wanted him, strapped him on a flat surface too cold for a bed. With the tubing crammed down his throat, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move. It even hurt to breathe. He ran out of energy after days gone by without food, enough water and care for his smarting head. He was an asset and a leverage, he knew that much. But even so, he was not immune to whatever they intended to do to him. _

_Then there was clinking sound, cutting through the silence, like a sharp nail tapping against glass. “If your body is strong enough to cultivate the stem proteins, you’ll be the first. I surely do hope you are the first, and the last.”_

He frowned, baffled at the sudden jog of memory.

Stem proteins?

“—it’s by design, Paul. It’s a part of the job, part of the contract,” he drifted away from his thoughts, and squinted his eyes at the blur of a figure sitting by the window, clutching a small object in his hand, talking to it. A recorder? “I’m a poor excuse of a human being, and they know it. You do too, and I wish you don’t. I wish you weren’t awake to see _it_.”

With great difficulty, Paul tried to recall his not-so-clandestine rescue. Kobalt – a renegade Special Forces unit, the fifth assemblage once under the United Nations’ Classified Military Contracts programme – ambushed the Progeny, a multibillion pharmaceutical company based in Ukraine, where Paul and other three local detectives happened to be conducting their investigations in. After a grueling shootout and a grenade thrown at them and exploded, Paul got himself captured. They hid him somewhere, tortured and experimented on him for days on end until the night _Fischer_ barreled through. Like a Terminator he dropped in and annihilated dozens of armed guerillas with his team of seven; arrested the Croatian MIB agent who ratted out the mission, and flew Paul to safety.

It was supposed to be a simple assignment like any other, quick and discreet. But of course, it went disastrous somewhere along the way. 

“We,” Paul croaked, flushing down the bubbling nausea as he attempted to level a patient gaze at Fischer. The soldier snapped his attention to him, shocked and the recorder fell from his grip, but soon his amber-colored eyes shifted – all melancholic and full of guilt. “We’re poor excuses of human beings.”

Fischer shook his head, and with a tired smile he stood up, marching over to him. “No, not you. Never you.”

He breathed out. “I did far worse than you…”

Unimaginable things. 

“Really? I don’t remember,” the soldier whispered, leaning closer to him as he held his hand, tangling their fingers together.

His usually clean, and handsome face now sported a few days’ worth of scruff; worry lines on his forehead and dark circles around his eyes. Fischer looked much older than his age, and Paul wanted to apologize for everything that he put him through. Paul figured, he too didn’t look any better, didn’t feel like it either. What with the numbness and the machines attached to him, he felt somewhat strange in his own body.

“Hey,” Fischer murmured, his eyes were full of unshed tears now as he reached up with his free hand to gently cup Paul’s cheek. “Don’t you leave me alone again, you hear me? I can’t stand it anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

Then Paul grunted at the sudden bout of pain hammering in his head.

“Hang on,” Fischer urged him to stay awake, planting kisses on his knuckles. “I’ll go get your doctor, okay?”

Paul heard him sprinting out of the room, leaving him alone in the still, eerie quietness. When the pain eased and he could open his eyes again, he was welcomed by the harrowing sight of the boogeyman standing crooked at the foot of his bed.

Unmoving.

Staring.

“…what are you waiting for?” Paul slurred.

But his question was left unanswered, and with a blink of an eye, the boogeyman vanished. Paul fell back into the darkness once more, but this time, he dreamed of nothing. Not even _ghosts_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> солнышко or soln'yishka, means 'sunny' - for tender, loving feelings. In this case, the love is parental. I really do hope the translation is correct, if not then I'll be deeply embarrassed.


End file.
